1 January
Ainsley sat on her sofa curled in a ball and clutching a pillow, wanting more than anything just to cut off her wrists. Dan had left more than two hours ago. For the first hour, Phil had been polite. He asked her what was wrong, and attempted to ease her pain as much as possible. But eventually, Phil had gotten tired. He rarely went to sleep after one o'clock, and Ainsley could see in his eyes that he wanted to go to bed. She had sent him to her room an hour ago, and she could hear him preparing his usual spot between her desk and wall.
So, Ainsley sat alone on her sofa. The apartment was quiet, but she was accustomed to it. She had instructed Phil to turn the lights off when he went out, and now she sat in a semi-darkness, the only light coming from the episode of The Great British Bake Off she had DVR'd a month ago.
Ainsley was starting to worry about Dan. Sure, London itself was extremely safe at night, but the underground was a different story. Several times, Ainsley had thought about texting him to make sure he was alive, but not only could she not walk halfway across the room to get her phone, she couldn't move her fingers enough to grip it, let alone type a coherent message. Thus, she sat, mindlessly staring at The Bake Off, thinking about the worst case scenarios Dan could be getting himself into. She even considered praying, both for Dan and for her own pain, though she wasn't religious in the slightest.
Ainsley heard the door creak open lightly and a few soft taps before the door shut again. There was the sound of a bag rustling and then soft, padded footsteps from the entryway, through the hallway.
"Hey," Dan whispered, entering the lounge and sitting on the sofa beside her.
"Hey." Ainsley smiled, pausing the BBC Two programme.
"Where's Phil?"
"Asleep." Dan grabbed one of her hands, beginning to rub her wrist again. "Where'd you run off to?"
"Just… out." He smiled, nodding toward the bags he had brought back. "Needed a few things."
"Oh?" Ainsley winced as Dan's fingers dug into her wrist. The hammers had become worse, instead of alleviating as they did before. Even the warm feeling she normally got when Dan barely brushed against her was doing nothing to soothe her pain. "Dan, this isn't helping."
He nodded, cradling her hand in his own as he reached into the plastic bag. Dan pulled out two boxes. In the low light, Ainsley could barely make out the image of a hand wrapped in black cloth on the front panels.
"Oh, Dan, you didn't."
"What did you expect me to do? Sit around and watch you in pain?" Gently, he sat her hand down on his knee so he could open one of the boxes.
Ainsley stared at his hands as he meticulously pulled out the wrist support and unfolded it. It was nearly three o'clock in the morning on an international holiday. Dan must have gone all around London trying to find shops that were open. Her eyes moved from Dan messing with the brace to her swollen wrists. They were twice their normal size, and Ainsley hated it. Not only was she in pain, the swelling crippled her ability to move. Seconds later, both of her wrists were covered in the stretchy black cloth and Dan had moved to massaging her fingers.
Finally starting to feel some relief, Ainsley allowed herself to concentrate on something other than her pain. Dan was always so kind when she needed him to be, which is why, she supposed, he was one of her best friends. When they first met, he had been the most loving and soft-hearted person she had ever met. Now, he was sarcastic and stubborn, but there were times when Ainsley could see hints of compassion and sympathy. Yes, Dan was kind to everyone, but to his friends, he was calmly sarcastic more than constantly sympathetic.
"Ainsley?" Dan's voice brought her out of her thoughts. "Did you even hear a word I said?" She stared at him blankly, and he chuckled. "Do you mind turning on Bake Off? I missed this episode."
She rolled her eyes and groped for the remote. The knuckles on her right hand were so swollen she could barely pick up the remote. Ainsley attempted to hit the play button, but couldn't bend her finger enough to put enough pressure on it. After three fruitless attempts, Dan took pity on her and gently took the remote out of her grasp, starting the episode from the beginning and setting the remote back on the coffee table. Dan's attention was devoted wholly to the baking show, but he continued to massage Ainsley's fingers subconsciously.
At a break in the show, Dan turned to her. "Are you tired?"
Ainsley shook her head. "I'm not well tired. Just a bit."
He nodded, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her to him. "I would be exhausted."
Her head rested against his shoulder gently. Always having to do something with his hands, Dan absent-mindedly played with her mahogany hair, pulling it away from her head, then smoothing it down. Not minding the contact, she said nothing. Ainsley was comfortable; she hardly moved, even after The Great British Bake Off ended and Dan played an old episode of Breaking Bad.
Halfway through a monologue by Bryan Cranston, Ainsley could feel Dan looking at her. She ignored it. He loved watching the reactions of those he was watching television with. When it continued, though, she turned to him. "What?"
"How do you feel?"
"I feel fine, Dan." She went back to the television.
Dan, however, did not. "Are you sure? I mean, your wrist is literally twice its normal size."
"I'm fine, Dan," she repeated. "The braces help a lot."
"That's good."
Ainsley could tell he didn't want to talk about her pain at all. "Is there something on your mind, Dan?"
After a second of pause, he muted the television. "Can we talk?"
